


Assume You Know What I Mean

by glittering_ant



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dream POV, Dream’s bossy as shit, Fluff, George is a bit of a brat, Inappropriate use of Snapchat lmao, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, No Pandemic, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pining, Porn with minimal Plot, Possessive Language, Sexting, Smut, Sorry for the slow update I’m incredibly busy lol, Streaming, Stylised Texting Format, Swearing, Tags to be added, They're a mess, Voice Call Sex, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, but the kink as a concept is there if u squint, idk much abt the intricacies of BDSM so I won’t tag brat tamer, the line between friends and lovers gets REAL blurry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:55:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29593137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glittering_ant/pseuds/glittering_ant
Summary: George accidentally reveals something he shouldn’t have to someone he didn’t mean to. Dream sees it a little differently, and somehow, he manages to say exactly how he feels without actually letting George know how he feels.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 443





	Assume You Know What I Mean

**Author's Note:**

> This took three months. Why? Idk, it was meant to be a short oneshot. How do ppl write fast? How do you do that??
> 
> This isn’t that longfic I was debating on writing, i just accidentally wrote more for this than necessary and now i guess I’m giving it another chapter lol
> 
> Also, please note that this fic uses a **work skin** in order to nicely format a few lines. It’s a VERY minor addition, you might not even notice it. But it’s recommended you keep the creators style set to shown, anyway. (If it already says “hide creators style” up the top, then you don’t need to change anything ^^)
> 
> Enjoy. I love u. :)

Dream had just dragged himself out of bed when a notification from Sapnap lit up his phone screen.

**Sapnap**  
Dude, get the fuck up and come on the smp discord, everyone’s on here

Dream exhaled heavily and scrubbed at his eyes. It was still way too early for any kind of substantial group interactions, but he had already opened the text, meaning Sapnap now knew he was awake, and he no longer had any excuse. It wouldn’t be out of character for the younger man to pester him until he complied, either.

He was still barely awake by the time Dream joined the call to a barrage of deafening voices and passionate yelling—both of which cost a severe toll on his rousing brain.

Strangely enough, the Dream SMP Discord was bustling with members that were jumping between VCs like pinballs. At first, Dream wondered if he had missed a lore event, but drew a blank when he tried recalling any plot progression planned for that day.

All that Sapnap had supplied him with, once he’d asked, was _everyone’s on right now, and it’s mayhem_.

Sapnap had also warned him that Quackity and Tommy were online and streaming, which made him sigh dramatically. He hadn’t yet accumulated the energy to make a very impactful stream appearance, but his curiosity had admittedly got the better of him, and he’d tried not to grumble petulantly as he had reluctantly booted up his PC.

The voice chat Dream had entered into was already inhabited by at least seven other people, but he immediately recognised George and Sapnap, who’s shrill bickering easily stood out above everyone else’s comparatively regular conversations.

“Sapnap! I’m going to die! You just– _Sapnap!_ You pushed me off!”

“I did not, I actually _bet_ I did not.”

Dream smothered a chuckle and grabbed a water bottle from the mini fridge nearby his desk, stifling his amusement by taking several long chugs of cool water.

“Well, you’re about to lose that bet.”

“I did _n_ —! Watch the vods okay, go back and watch Quackity’s stream. You’re stupid.” Sapnap retaliated.

Dream decided it was probably time he announced his presence before their volume only escalated.

“I join the VC, and all I can hear is George and Sapnap talking over everyone else who’s just trying to have a normal, pleasant conversation.” Dream snarked with a puckish smile.

All members of the call reacted instantaneously to the debut of a new person, slowly getting a few consecutive greetings in, and Dream smiled tiredly to himself at his friends’ chipperness. He really loved all of them, even if he would have probably really enjoyed an extra hour of sleep after he’d stayed up late editing the night prior.

He slotted into the conversation easily, offering mild comments every here and there, Sapnap not forgetting to appropriately jibe at Dream for his voice, majorly tainted with sleep.

While the rest of the call were avidly fleshing out the foundations for some kind of short challenge in-game, Dream was interrupted by a buzz from his phone. Glancing down, he saw George’s name sprawled out beside the Snapchat icon on the forefront of his lockscreen. Ignoring the way his cheek tugged incessantly at one corner of his mouth, Dream swiped on the notification and was brought into the app.

His eyes widened, however, when he was greeted with the Brit’s actual snap.

It was a blurry picture that was clearly capturing nothing of significance—just the brunet’s Discord screen and a section of his desk—but it was the caption that made Dream do a double take. And then another, because surely George hadn’t meant to say that.

_Tell me why the fuck Dream’s voice is so fucking rough in the mornings_

Dream stared. Over the group call, George was still providing the same amounts of ample sustenance as he usually did, like nothing was amiss.

Dream blinked down at the snap that had been set to infinite. Was he supposed to reply?

George had used Dream’s name instead of ‘you’ pronouns, indicating that he probably had meant to send it to someone else.

… George talks about his voice to other people? It seemed even more bizarre when put in a sentence, but all the proof was right in front of him.

Dream racked his brain trying to logically reason who his incredibly private and typically reserved best friend would have sent such a highly modal Snapchat to. The deduction came pretty quickly—there was only one other person that George was close enough with that he’d feel comfortable sending a comment of such a nature to, about Dream, and aside from Dream himself: Sapnap.

Tapping out of the snap, Dream opened up his camera to reply. He prefaced that he should keep it much within the same realms of George’s own, settling for a similarly plain-looking image that wouldn’t take from the caption itself. As he stared at the pixelated version of his carpet and sock-covered feet displayed back to him, his thumb hovered over the middle of the screen, deliberating. The line was so excruciatingly blurry, yet the idiotic, latent-teenage parts of his hormonal brain left himself thinking that toeing it would be a really good idea.

After a moment’s hesitation, he impulsively decided to flip the camera onto himself, holding up his phone so that his face was mostly cut off, only the edge of his jaw and his covered chest showing. 

He stared at his snap and bit his lip, rolling the skin between his teeth until it protested in pain. God, what was he doing? He was too tired to rationalise yet.

Nervously, he tapped the image and began typing in a response.

_Ohhh, is it? ;) lol, did u mean to send that to Sapnap?_

Dream looked down at his creation, eyes darting between the send arrow and the image itself. Surely that wasn’t too over the top? It was lighthearted enough that it wouldn’t scare George off, but laced with just the barest hint of flirtatiousness that supplied George with an opening should the older man choose to take it. And, if not (and if Dream had merely been over-optimistic about the implications of George’s text) he could play it off as his usual banter.

_Right. Not over the top_ , he reiterated to himself, willing as much surety into it as he could muster.

Before he could overthink it, he punched the bottom right arrow and tapped on George’s contact, finalising his decision.

The loading symbol appeared, and then it was delivered.

Daring to tune back into the conversation, Dream listened for George’s reaction over the ever-present noise of the Discord call.

The Brit was halfway through making a remark to Karl when he stumbled and fell quiet.

Dream watched as the pink icon changed to ‘opened’, and George went dead silent over the headset.

“What did you just say to me, George?” Karl tried, oblivious laughter in his voice.

George didn’t respond, and Dream felt a smile twinge on his face. Perhaps it was cruel, but Dream purposely retained the dubious, sleep-addled inflection in his voice when he spoke.

“Yeah George, you’re being so _rude_ ,” He tutted cockily. “What was it you were about to call him?”

George finally seemed to snap out of his trance, and Dream drank in the sounds he emitted as the brunet sucked in a quiet breath through the static.

“Uhh—what?” He cleared his throat nervously and tried again. “Um, sorry. I just, uh, realised something I’d forgotten to do.”

Dream found himself hanging onto the way George trailed off, _lied_ for him. Movement on his phone screen made him glance down to see George typing on the other end. A blue arrow icon appeared, and Dream tapped on the conversation.

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ  
| I did not mean to send that to you

ᴍᴇ  
| Haha, I figured. Sapnap?

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ  
| Yeah

Dream vaguely heard Karl begin another tangent, but he had a feeling that neither he nor George were really paying attention anymore.

Dream waited, but George never elaborated, and the blond frowned as mild disappointment tugged at his restless mind. No way was George getting off that easily. He switched back to his camera and shot another quick image.

_So do you two often talk about my voice?_ Dream wrote, still feeling slightly hesitant to push the brunet too much too soon. His friend could be a little mousy in comparison to Dream’s rather confrontational attitude. He’d have to take it slow if he wanted to see how far George would allow him to go.

God, truly, what was Dream thinking? Clearly, he wasn’t. Unfortunately, his dick was.

He paused his train of thought when the notification of another Snapchat message came through.

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ  
| Shut up, it was an accident 

Dream’s fingers had never pulled up his keyboard so fast.

ᴍᴇ  
| That’s okay, I’m flattered.

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ  
| I’m glad you think I was complimenting you, idiot

Dream chuckled, (he could almost hear the brunet's eye roll) and then glanced up at the Discord call worriedly, hoping no one had picked up on his obviously out-of-nowhere laugh. Luckily, the conversation seemed to be moving too quickly for anyone to notice. George did, though.

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ  
| I heard that

Furiously, Dream’s fingers stumbled out a retaliation.

ᴍᴇ  
| Whatever, no u didn’t. You didn’t answer my question by the way.

George stopped typing, or doing anything at all. The seconds ticked by, and Dream silently begged his friend not to leave the conversation. Finally, a new line of text appeared.

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ  
| And that was?

Dream fought down a smirk. Playing dumb, then. How cute.

ᴍᴇ  
| Do you talk about me to Sapnap? You can tell me the honest truth, George

He deliberated for a moment before adding several ironic emojis to water down the severity, then hitting send. George’s icon showed him typing for some time before a message came through.

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ  
| Of course I do, we’re all best friends. We always talk about each other.

ᴍᴇ  
| George you literally know what I meant, I know you do

There was a distinct pause.

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ  
| Are you doing this on purpose?

Dream frowned, a bit puzzled. George dodged his questions relentlessly.

ᴍᴇ  
| What do you mean? Also, is that your answer?

George’s icon flipped between typing and sitting idle like mad.

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ  
| Nevermind

Dream’s phone again told him George was typing, but eventually the latter stopped altogether, and then disappeared completely. Dream heard him tentatively talking to the rest of the group call.

Dream slumped in defeat. He got the niggling suspicion as though he’d lost his chance at something, though the specifics of it were still unclear. He ignored the others and set his shoulders, clutching his phone tighter in his hands.

He opened his camera back up, and quickly shot another picture, again aimed at his torso. He was getting a little desperate. He captioned it, and sent it.

_Leaving me on read George?? :( I thought we were connecting. </3_

Clingy, but George would understand his irony. The brunet opened it almost immediately, though seemed to debate whether or not he wanted to continue humouring his friend.

George just sent through another chat instead. Dream suppressed a groan.

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ  
| Are you really just gonna text me while we’re in a group vc? Also, you and your ego are stupid. I bet you wouldn’t be able to handle genuine compliments from me.

Heat spun slowly like spider silk between Dream’s veins, a mischievous grin donning his features. Wanting to string the other along for a little bit longer, and relishing in the game of push-and-pull, he left his phone open on his desk for a couple minutes, instead favouring attempts to offer a few sparse comments on the call. A response shot back at him on his screen, not a couple minutes later.

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ  
| Hypocrite

Dream felt his confidence swelling, and he grew more and more daring. 

ᴍᴇ  
| Why don’t you try it and find out? I bet I can.

George struggled with a response again, and Dream hurried to get another text in.

ᴍᴇ  
| You seem to have already formulated an opinion on my morning voice.

Dream’s face was burning, and he had to mute his mic for a moment to bury his face in his hands, cheeks laughably hotter than his extremities. When he removed them again, he unmuted and stared down another reply from George.

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ  
| U really want me to elaborate on that huh

Helpless, Dream felt a smile tug incessantly on his face.

ᴍᴇ  
| I get sent a snap by my best friend that wasn’t intended for me, talking rather strongly about my “rough voice”. Yes, I’m dying to hear it.

Dream heard a sigh over his headset and looked up at George’s icon, just catching the ring of green light up around his profile picture before it disappeared. He restrained himself from chuckling. It appeared he wasn’t the only one forgetting others could hear them.

A few members of the call stopped and listened, expecting more, and calling out when no one spoke up.

“Who was that that just sighed? Was that George?” Quackity asked.

Hearing Alex speak made the rest of the group go quiet in curiosity. Dream heard the man’s high pitched, confused laughter when his question was met by silence.

“George?” Sapnap prompted.

George was likely frustrated at being cornered with no out, and no choice but to explain himself. Dream didn’t really envy him. He felt only slightly responsible.

Finally, George cleared his throat and spoke up, “Sorry, I wasn’t really paying attention. I’m on my phone.”

The tension eased and the others began to joke and berate the Brit for supposedly finding them ‘too boring for him’. George was able to laugh it off easily and agree, and his slip-up was immediately forgotten.

In no time, George had hastily fired a strafe of texts at him.

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ  
| You suck  
| I’m blaming you for that  
| Why

Dream couldn’t help it, he burst out with breathy laughter at George’s short trilogy of flustered prompts. Everyone immediately stopped and listened once more.

“What?” Quackity’s questioning voice carried through to the forefront again.

“Are you two idiots texting each other?” Sapnap had an obvious note of amusement under his otherwise intrigued tone.

God damn it, Dream should have known to expect that Sapnap would have joined the dots immediately. He knew them far too well. Deciding that owning it would be easier than weaving around the question, Dream responded with the truth.

“Maybe, yes.”

A chorus of laughs resounded back at Dream, and he followed along closely to quell suspicion. George chose then to butt-in, also.

“He’s being an idiot.” The brunet sounded nonchalant, but Dream could tell he was being careful.

Sapnap’s humour rang loudest in response.

“What, is he sending you feet pics? _Dream_ , how come you never send _me_ feet pics?” The Texan complained childishly.

“What the hell, Sapnap, I’m not giving you feet pics, you weirdo. Go ask Karl and see if he’s into that.” Dream suggested, wheezing. It was maybe a little bit unfair, but he was secretly hoping that the blatant pandering would deflect attention off of himself and George, and sufficiently distract everyone else in the Discord as well as the stream.

The call exploded with many elaborate responses just like Dream had expected, mostly consisting of laughter, but some—such as in Sapnap’s case—were a little more indignant.

Another conversation had already begun to sweep through the Discord, and Dream heard Sapnap mutter a final _shut up, Dream_ , before they were blessedly left alone once more.

Dream’s phone buzzed in his hand.

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ  
| Ha ha

The blond refrained from rolling his eyes, still smiling widely.

ᴍᴇ  
| Stop distracting from the conversation. You’re leaving me on such a cliffhanger, Georgie. I’m on the edge of my seat, here ;(

The winky faces could have been overdoing it, but all Dream could think about was how his body felt like it was buzzing with atomical excitement and throat-clogging anticipation.

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ  
| You’re so dumb

ᴍᴇ  
| Geoooorge

George read it, and then left the conversation. Dream furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, until the appearance of a new snap came through, followed closely by a second. He pulled away from his mic, slumped back in his chair and sucked in a breath.

_Fuck_.

Filled with embarrassing hope, he pretended he wasn’t itching to cross his fingers on top of his thigh like an elementary schooler, and opened the first one.

It was another grainy image of George’s desk, barely capturing anything at all, with the simple text _fine_ written across the screen.

Holding his breath, he shakily forwarded to the next snap, and promptly felt all the blood in his body drain south.

It was flipped onto George’s selfie camera this time, and held striking similarity to Dream’s earlier snaps that he’d sent to the other. Most of his face was cut off, but from what Dream could see, the brunet was blushing prettily down to his jaw, Dream’s gaze hungrily eyeing down the expanse of his pale neck and finishing at the dip of his t-shirt, memorising the tiniest glimpse of unblemished collarbones that he could see just barely peeking through.

Dream’s attention flicked to the block of text, and he had to readjust his grip on his phone, eyes widening.

_I think your morning voice sounds hot as fuck. I love hearing you like that. Your regular voice is already enough, but then you go and fucking sound like that, and I’m screwed. There, is that what you fucking wanted to know?_

Frantically, Dream scrambled to mute his mic on Discord again. Double-checking that it had registered his keybind via the indicative noise in his headset, he let all the air out of his lungs in a loud rush, feeling himself sink further into his chair. He risked another glance down at his phone screen, the snap still there and staring back at him innocuously.

Jesus. _Christ_.

_Yes_ , he thought in disbelief, _that was everything I was_ hoping _to hear_.

Face flaming, Dream shifted in his seat and tentatively pulled his hand back towards him, phone suddenly weighing a ton in his palm. He felt deeply-situated arousal raise the hairs on his nape as he stared openly at George’s picture again, George’s face, George’s _neck_. His other hand came up to join the other around his phone, and his fingers lingered dangerously around the side and home buttons. He felt heavy claws of temptation curling around his shoulders, and with the knowledge of what he’d already catalysed, screenshot it.

Almost immediately in his headphones, he heard the thud of someone knocking something on their desk, and looked up to see George hastily mute himself.

_Fuck, that was probably really stupid. Shit_.

Spurred on by sudden mania, Dream hurried to open up his Snapchat conversation with George, forlornly assuming the concupiscent snap to minimise, and was instead met with another that George had sent sometime after he’d opened the last.

_I should not have said that. I’m sorry_ , it read. Dream felt as though he’d been slapped.

Adrenaline mingled with dread in his gut, and his hands shook as he raced to open their recent thread of messages. George had already beat him to it.

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ  
| Fuck you, what the fuck? You’re such a fucking dickhead, Clay.

Dream’s stomach knotted, and he couldn’t even appreciate being called by his real name when it was in the entirely wrong context. His fingers quavered uselessly over his phone’s keyboard for a moment before he forced them into action.

ᴍᴇ  
| George wait, I’m sorry, please don’t go yet

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ  
| Okay?? Spit it out, asshole.

Christ, he was so dumb, he wanted to hit himself. Instead, Dream ruffled his hair nervously before bringing both his thumbs back to his screen.

ᴍᴇ  
| I just have to know  
| Did you mean that?

George’s icon didn’t move. Excruciating stillness swept over the conversation. He thought he already knew the answer, but he needed to hear George say it.

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ  
| Yes

Then, after a silence;

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ  
| I’m sorry. Can we please forget about this? I’m being serious

Dream let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Distantly, he couldn’t help but wonder—how long had George felt this way for him? Was it for as long as Dream had for _him?_

… Was it even in the same manner?

Despite himself, Dream felt giddy excitement bubble gently in his chest. He swiped out of the chat, opening up his camera again. Regarding himself in the tiny screen of his phone, he winced. He looked like a mess. His face was so red it could almost be passed off as a sunburn, and his hair was dishevelled from where it curled out under his headphones. When caught by the light of his monitor at the right angle, he could see the faint sheen of sweat accumulating in the dip of his collarbones. The only reason some of his dignity remained intact was because the camera didn’t reach to his lap.

He snapped a picture and began typing.

_I get the feeling I won’t be forgetting that anytime soon. God your mouth is filthy. You have no fucking idea what you’re doing to me_.

He didn’t hesitate when he sent it this time, the confidence that had crashed earlier rebuilding itself tenfold.

A gasp sounded in his ears, nearly drowned out by the people who were still actually using the VC to talk, and Dream looked up in surprise to see George’s microphone taken off mute. There was a faint clacking of keys, and then the mute icon reappeared next to his name again. The remaining members of the call, if they’d noticed, were resolutely ignoring the pair’s strange behaviour, loyally raising their voices to retain the chat’s focus.

Predictably, though still somewhat embarrassingly for Dream, Sapnap’s profile picture appeared in his Discord recents along with a red notification badge. He clicked on it, taking him to their private DMs.

**Sapnap** Today at 13:23  
Dude, what the fuck is going on between you two? Is everything okay?

Dream felt slightly bad for making their friends worry, but dutifully typed back.

**Dream** Today at 13:24  
Yeah, I think so. I have a slight feeling we’ll be leaving the call soon.

Sapnap’s reply was instantaneous.

**Sapnap** Today at 13:24  
Alright, well if you need anything, let me know, okay? And keep it PG, you’re seriously being weird.

Dream snickered to himself at that.

**Dream** Today at 13:24  
Of course, thanks man.

Exiting out of his directs, he returned to the voice channel screen, and promptly crammed his phone back into his line of sight.

Their chat stared back at him.

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ᴀ ꜱᴄʀᴇᴇɴꜱʜᴏᴛ﹗

Dream’s heart stuttered, and self-satisfaction trickled down his spine like hot candy. He appraised George’s avatar as it moved.

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ  
| You did it first.  
| I told you you wouldn’t be able to handle me if I was being honest

ᴍᴇ  
| You sure did

Confusion was braiding with the tight ropes of arousal in Dream’s belly, conflicting him. They were blatantly flirting now, he wasn’t stupid. But there was still a massive cloud of assumption surrounding them, and so many things weren’t being said, even though they probably should be. Dream recognised this, yet he still felt himself blindly stepping further into the fog with his eyes shut, and he didn’t care.

George apparently, was of the same internal dilemma, though in typical character, he wasn’t as interested in acting impulsively and relying on questions later.

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ  
| Dream, am I reading this right? Not gonna lie, I’m really nervous right now and you’re being hard to read

ᴍᴇ  
| Alright, well I hope this answers your question George, because I really want you, and I’m really, really hoping this means you want me back.

There, Dream had given back the mile that he’d taken earlier, when he screenshot the other’s reluctant confession. George didn’t move, didn’t react, and Dream was dying to know what he looked like right now, how badly his own provocative admission had affected the brunet. Dream could almost picture the exact shade of red that George’s face turned when he blushed.

Scrubbing a hand across his cheek, Dream set his phone aside on his desk and glanced back up at his monitor, scanning the icons ricocheting back and forth on the app. It was still just himself and George not participating it seemed, and George had seemingly learnt his lesson earlier about unmuting while reading texts from Dream.

Once he felt he’d composed himself enough, Dream snatched up his phone again, barely breathing as he jammed in his fingerprint and rushed to pull up snapchat, typing out another message. George was still vacantly sitting there, and Dream was once again desperate to know what was going through the other man’s head.

ᴍᴇ  
| What are you thinking..?

George didn’t react for a daunting twenty or more seconds, and Dream felt trepidation rise in his throat, equal parts thrilling and nauseating. Finally, his status changed to indicate that he had left, and a short while later, a new snap popped through. Dream almost bit his tongue as his jaw clicked shut, impatiently tapping it open.

George did not disappoint, as always.

He was reclined in his chair with his headphones around his neck, knuckles of his right hand pressed lightly against his lips, slightly parted and unintentionally teasing. He had cut off most of his face again, likely from embarrassment, but Dream could see the way pink stretched all the way to his throat and under his dark-coloured headphones. His head was inclined in a way that made the slope of his neck painfully salient, and Dream found himself having trouble looking away. 

Feeling his own face simmer, Dream brought a hand up and pressed against his warm cheeks, trying to coax the blood out of them. It may have been covered by his shirt and headset this time, but Dream could pinpoint exactly where George’s collarbones sat, desire making the blond ache with the wanton need to press his teeth into the skin there.

His gaze flicked further down, to the writing near the bottom of the screen.

_You’re an idiot, Dream. If you thought after everything I’ve said in this conversation so far that I still don’t want you, then you’re completely stupid. Fuck, of course I fucking want you, so bad it hurts_.

Dream took a shuddering breath that escaped him as a groan. He shifted again awkwardly, pants uncomfortable. This was too much.

He tapped out of the image, then after a moment’s deliberation, replayed it, and took a screenshot. He already had the foundations for quite the collection of jack-off material, but he didn’t feel as guilty about it knowing George might be doing the same thing. The thought made his pulse race.

He was about to just jump George in their chat and force him to move to a private voice call, but he ended up swiping to his camera out of habit. The reflection of his glistening skin mocked him. Overcome by a sudden wave of confidence, Dream angled his lidded eyes, wild with lust, into the top half of the shot, and delicately leaned his cheek into his fingers, elbow digging in painfully where it met the armrest. He stared down his lens as he captured the photo.

_Hurts, does it? Your pants getting uncomfortable Georgie? Is that what I’m doing to you?_

On a separate line, he added, _Mine fucking are. I’ll tell you all about it if you want me to._

Dream shifted again, hand reaching down to rest on his thigh, inches from his growing hard-on. He wanted to wreck George, wanted to know what he sounded like when someone else was pulling him apart by all of his loose threads, but photos from the other man were something Dream could keep, could easily revisit. He wasn’t yet done coaxing them out of the brunet.

George was sending through his responding snaps much quicker now. Dream delighted in it.

_Fuck, Dream. Please do something. Keep talking, tell me to do something_

George’s grip on his composure was slipping, evident in the way he had a finger between his teeth, knuckle pinched and white, and his head was pushing into the back of his chair, neck arching with the movement—Dream soaked up every detail of it.

He pulled open their chat.

ᴍᴇ  
| Leave the call. I want you to myself.

George’s reaction was instantaneous. Dream looked up to see his icon disappear from the voice channel, and hurriedly shoved his phone aside to do the same, dropping into Sapnap’s direct messages to offer a quick explanation.

**Dream** Today at 13:39  
Sorry dude, I just made George leave the call. I’m gonna dip now too.

Sapnap responded a minute later;

**Sapnap** Today at 13:40  
You made him leave? ….aight. Also please at least tell the stream first, I’m not covering for you unless we can negotiate a pay raise.

 **Dream** Today at 13:40  
Lmao sure, probably a good idea. Yea srry abt that.

 **Sapnap** Today at 13:41  
No you’re not

 **Dream** Today at 13:41  
Nah

Dream chuckled to himself and returned to the SMP’s server, finally unmuting himself.

Everyone appeared to have calmed down compared to earlier, and were now having a far more civilised discussion. Dream was a little unwilling to interrupt the conversation, but the knowledge that George was waiting for him to—well—Dream wasn’t exactly sure yet what they were about to do, but he knew that he wasn't intending to postpone it.

“Alright, I think I’m heading out now. George just reminded me that we have a few thumbnails due soon.” Not exactly a lie, except for the fact they’d already done them. Dream felt a little guilty, but then again, he didn’t owe anyone an explanation on his relationship with George.

His friends easily replied with all of their own versions of ‘no problem’ and ‘goodbye’, and thankfully didn’t press further. Dream was aware of how unsubtle he and George were being, but he was grateful his friends were brushing it off so as to keep the tens of thousands of live viewers off their backs.

The indication that his headset and microphone had disconnected from the call reverberated in his ears, sounding louder than it really was. In the sudden silence, it almost felt as if there were a cloud looming over his head, promising and dark, leaving a charged taste of static in the air.

Dream’s hand flew to his phone, scooping up the device rather harshly. His thumbs flew over his screen.

ᴍᴇ  
| Tell me how my voice makes you feel. Show me.

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ  
| I will. Please call me. Please?

Dream had never opened his Discord directs so fast, locating George’s name in a heartbeat and clicking on the call button.

George picked up before the second ring.

There were a few beats of stifling silence, thick with heat and humidity.

“...Dream?” Came George’s timid call, and he already sounded worked up, voice a breathy timbre.

“George?” He countered smoothly, sly grin evident in his words.

Dream heard the way George’s breath picked up over the line, and gripped his thigh harshly in his hand. He swore under his breath, and finally gave in, settling his palm over his own growing erection.

“Dream, do you—” George began, shyness crowding his words, but Dream cut him off.

“George, I’m not waiting for you anymore. Tell me. _Tell me_ what I’m doing to you.” Even Dream could hear how strong the possessiveness in his own voice was, and he didn’t miss the way that George choked slightly as he inhaled. Dream palmed himself steadily through his pants, breath hitching for a moment.

“I-I’m—ah—I’m…” George trailed off, clearly flummoxed, and Dream’s eyebrows rose with mild surprise at how subservient George was being. He’d expected more of a fight from the older man, which led Dream to wonder if George really hadn’t been kidding about how Dream’s voice affected him. The thought made him shiver pleasantly, goosebumps settling over his tingling skin.

George made a soft noise again, and Dream snapped to attention.

“George, are you touching yourself?” He let his voice sink to a low calibre, listening intently for the brunet’s reactions, eager to understand what George liked.

He heard the brunet whine, a muffled noise getting caught in his throat as he rushed to deny the accusation, and Dream’s dick twitched under his palm.

“N-No, I’m not, Dream, I’m not. I’m w-waiting for you.” George admitted, and Dream preened, loving the fluster in the brunet’s voice.

“George. You’re such a good boy—” George keened quietly. “—were you waiting for my permission this whole time?” Dream cooed.

George’s heavy breathing could be heard over the line.

“A bit.” He said in a rush of breath.

Dream hummed appreciatively. 

“Good. Can you do something for me, though?” Dream allowed his voice to soften like butter. Through the haze of desire, and the tightness of his pants, Dream was anxious about straying too far from George’s comfort zone. He was almost as hard as fucking diamond, but George mattered to him more than anything, and his heart ached with the innate need to care for the other man, to please him.

George hummed in confirmation.

“I know we both said that we want this, but… tell me if I’m going too far, please? I can’t— I want this to be good for you, George. I want to make you feel good, yeah?”

Dream heard soft laughter over the line, and had to clench his free fist in his shirt to ground himself.

“Dream, you’re ridiculous. Don't baby me. You _know_ you aren’t hurting me, and I wouldn’t let you, anyway. How many times will it take me to say ‘I want you’ before you actually listen?”

Dream’s stomach twisted and blood rushed in his ears. He cursed breathily.

“Let me be clear,” George continued before Dream had a chance to open his mouth. “I am more than okay with this, Dream, and I think you should try your worst.” George drawled, accent curling around his words and spreading warmth throughout Dream. 

Dream heard a soft thud, like George had dropped his head onto the headrest behind him. 

“Please, don’t treat me like I can’t take it. Who was it again that couldn’t handle compliments?” George cheeked, and Dream didn’t miss the grin in his voice.

He glared pointlessly at his monitor, heat having a resurgence across his face.

“Alright brat, I get it.” He huffed, and George only laughed at him, taunting and airy.

Dream felt a spark in him at the barest insinuation that he wasn’t being taken seriously. Maybe he was too much of a textbook Leo, because he was immediately overcome with the stubborn need to retaliate—and if he couldn’t physically manhandle George, then he could at least verbally knock him down a peg or four.

“Turn on your camera, George. Now.” He said evenly.

That seemed to catch the other off guard, who made a noise of faint surprise and fumbled against his keyboard for a moment.

“U-Um, will you…?” The brunet stammered.

Dream snorted quietly, amused. “I don’t know how I can be any clearer. I want to see you, George. How can I help you if I can’t see the problem? Turn your camera on.” He requested mildly, bypassing George’s question dismissively.

There was a muffled rustling, and then George’s webcam flashed on his screen. He looked as he had in the snaps that now sat with heavy implication in Dream’s camera roll; flustered, sweaty, and red down to his collar. Dream’s heart thundered possessively.

“George…” Dream heard himself groan breathlessly. It was a little embarrassing, to say the least, but he liked to pretend he recovered quickly.

He stared at the edge of the screen where it cut off at around George’s stomach height. Dream fought back a frown.

“George.” He bit, heavy with implication.

George’s remark was breathless and short. “W-What?”

He wasn’t quite looking at his camera, intentionally not meeting the lens, and Dream could see that he was consciously trying to act unaffected.

“You know.” Dream purred. It was presented as a statement, and he caught the way George’s breath hitched. “I want to _see_ you, Georgie. Camera down, I won’t ask again.”

He could see George deliberating for a moment, bottom lip tugged between his teeth. Dream’s eyes followed the movement.

“And don’t try cutting your face out of it either, I can practically hear you thinking.” Dream chuckled as George rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Damn it. Fine, asshole.”

A moment later, George had fixed his camera, rolling back in his chair until Dream could see everything from his mid-thighs, to the top of his headset. Dream stared, eyes raking down his friend’s body. George had sunk back into his chair, tilted head showcasing his bare neck. Dream took note of his plain-looking t-shirt, and grey drawstring shorts, the latter of which were concealing his noticeable arousal.

The entire image made Dream’s dick twitch to attention. He dragged his palm firmer over his crotch, trying and failing to suppress a grunt.

“Good—good boy, George,” Dream praised, eliciting a gasp from George, who bit down on his bottom lip. “Fuck, you’re s-so attractive, George. You _have_ to know that.”

George gripped his armrests with a white-knuckled grasp. “ _Dream_ ,” he whined.

Dream licked his lips to the sound of his name tumbling sinfully out of his friend’s mouth, voice thick with desire. Dream’s hand dragged upwards over his stomach, then back down, slipping underneath his waistband, fingers curling firmly around his hard on.

“George, lift your shirt up. Hold it up with your teeth.” Dream commanded, and George complied almost immediately.

Dream began slowly pumping his dick, swiping leisurely across the underside of the head, and collecting the precum at the top every now and then—not enough to bring him to orgasm, but just enough to maintain generous stimulation.

“God, fuck, you’re hot. I want to get my hands all over you.” George tensed at that, back arching into nothing. “You’re so fucking small, I could probably cover your stomach with one hand.” Dream shuddered, fingers itching to increase their speed. “Do me a favour George—I want you to trail your fingers lightly across your body. Just lightly for now. Don’t touch yourself yet, only your body.”

George followed Dream’s instructions nonverbally, jaw clenching around the fabric in his mouth, hands gliding smoothly up and down his sides, alternating between the backs of his nails and the pads of his fingers. Dream noted that George shivered slightly when his nails scratched over the skin just under his ribs.

“Good boy,” Dream reiterated. “You can apply pressure now. Flatten your palms against your skin, I want you to touch yourself where you like it. Pretend it’s me, my hands covering your ribs and waist.”

Dream paused and inhaled deeply, staving off his climax. He resumed stroking himself slowly, with as much self-restraint as he could muster. It wasn’t exactly made easy when George’s fingers splayed out over his torso and dragged down to rest near the apex of his hips, carefully avoiding contact with his crotch.

“Fuck,” Dream cursed as he accidentally put too much pressure on the underside of his cock, tugging his hand away to gently squeeze the base. “I just want to grab you by your fucking hips, George, until I leave bruises in the shape of my hands. God damn, you’d look good with them.”

He saw George keen pathetically around his shirt, and twist his back into a beautiful arc towards his webcam.

Dream grinned wolfishly. “Oh, you like the sound of that, brat? Want me to bruise you, Georgie? It would be so fucking easy, and you’d look like _mine_ , covered in my marks.”

George groaned lewdly, eyebrows pinching and squeezing his eyes shut. His fingers shook slightly where they rested above his hip bones.

George made a muffled noise of encouragement over the headset, and Dream sucked in a breath as he watched slender fingers curl over the other’s own waist tightly. Dream wouldn’t say it aloud after George’s speech earlier, but he was admittedly still a little anxious about saying the wrong thing and screwing up any chances he had with the older man. He sucked in a steadying breath, and carried on.

“Take your pants off.” Dream requested.

He deliberated for a moment, then added, “underwear, too, but you keep your damn hands to yourself.”

Dream’s requisition elicited a whiny protest from the brunet, who grunted in frustration, dropping the hem of his shirt from his mouth.

“Fuck, Dream.” George said, clearly annoyed, but got to work undoing the knot of his shorts anyway.

“I know, you poor baby.” Dream scoffed. “Almost, not yet. Be fucking patient.”

George pursed his lips, but continued tugging off his clothes. When George’s cock sprang free of its confinements, flushed and hard, Dream couldn’t help but wet his lips and stare unabashedly.

Fuck, he wanted to taste George, so bad. Fuck the goddamn ocean that sat between them. It was really fucking annoying.

Dream’s internal lament was interrupted by movement from his screen. He looked up to see George leaning forward and pulling his legs up onto the chair, folding them underneath himself so that he was somewhat sitting on his haunches, thighs pressed into the armrests. The action caused his shirt to catch on his leaking tip, and Dream scowled at the obstruction, while George only squirmed impatiently.

Hastily, before Dream’s sharp tongue could cut in, the brunet stuffed the bottom of his shirt back in his mouth, re-wetting the edges.

Hesitantly, almost shyly, the brunet locked his gaze directly with the camera, hands finding their way back to his body, covering stomach and sternum, and Dream’s mind nearly blanked. With a great deal of effort, he yanked his hand off of his dick and took several deep breaths in order to stabilise himself.

“Oh _fuck_ , George. Jesus Christ– Can I… can I take a picture?” Dream implored, fingers hovering over his keyboard.

George paused for a moment, then nodded, spit having formed a dark stain around the fabric between his teeth.

Dream didn’t hesitate to jam his index fingers into the Windows and PrtScn keys. God, Dream could already tell that one was going to be used a lot. As quickly as he could without diverting attention away from George for too long, Dream leaned back in his chair and pulled open the second drawer of his desk, sifting around for the small bottle of lube he’d lazily left in there a couple weeks ago. He returned to his previous position, centred in his chair and hungrily staring down the semi-naked image of George on his screen, who had his hands back to being clenched around his waist, gripping the flesh roughly.

Dream took another screen capture, then unbuckled his pants and hooked his thumbs past his boxers, shoving both items of clothing down his thighs out of the way. His cock bobbed as it pulled out of its restrictive covering, and Dream grabbed it with a sturdy fist, expending a great deal of willpower to not simply jack himself off right there.

Faintly, he heard soft panting over the line, and watched George’s expression curl erogenously with thin restraint, breathing through his nose to keep his mouth gagged. Dream yanked his arm a little with the forward movement to collect another screenshot.

“You good, George?” Dream inquired mellowly, trying to keep his voice even, loosening his grip on his cock to swipe his thumb over the head absentmindedly.

He shivered, at the same time George let out a strangled groan, and Dream could see his nails digging into the delicate skin of his pelvis.

“Sorry—I know. Take– you can take your shirt off now. I need your mouth free.” Dream explained.

George offered a short grunt, and immediately his hands flew up to the hem, pulling it from his mouth and yanking the article aggressively over his head. He muttered something like a _fucking finally_ , before tossing it away. Thin hands settled back over his hips and he made direct, hooded eye contact with his webcam.

“Are you going to turn your camera on, or what?” The brunet snarked, thighs flexing as he readjusted.

Dream pretended to hum thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair, fist gradually resuming its steady pace around his cock. “I thought you were finally going to stop being a brat, but you really just went and ruined that. Don’t know if I should anymore.”

George made a strangled groan that could have been aroused or exasperated.

“Dream, come on,” he protested.

“I could be persuaded.” Dream offered ambiguously.

George scowled. “Don’t make me say it.”

Dream snorted. “Say what? _Please?_ It’s not that hard.”

There was a muffled sound through his headset, and Dream saw George glance away, then, softly: “...please?”

A satisfied smile crept across Dream’s face. “No,” he finished cuttingly.

Maybe he was being a bit cruel, but George had dared him to be assertive, and he wasn’t willing to back down. He had already decided that he would make George work for any kind of reward, and his mind was made up about how lenient he was going to be. Or not, more accurately.

“What?” George croaked, clearly thrown, and Dream almost felt bad at how betrayed he looked, but surged on anyway.

“Put two fingers in your mouth.” He commanded.

George hesitated, then meekly obliged, unsurety framing his expression. He raised his left hand to his mouth, pushing his index and middle fingers past his lips, sliding them along his tongue. Dream softly grunted in appreciation at the sight, and George quietly moaned around his digits.

“Good boy, George.” Dream crooned, just barely speeding up his own ministrations. Then, “do you have lube?”

The fingers still splayed across George’s stomach tightened minutely, digging into the skin. He nodded, string of saliva running down his chin.

“Go and get it.”

Slowly, George did as he was asked and moved to stand. Dream noticed with dull satisfaction when George attempted to leave his fingers in his mouth, but graciously decided not to comment when the other inevitably had to pull his hand away for balance. He moved out of frame for a moment, returning with a small bottle in his hand. The brunet set it aside while he resettled himself in his chair and wordlessly slipped his fingers back into his mouth. 

Dream hummed, thumbing the slit of his dick, then immediately pulling back. He repeated it a few times, allowing ample pauses in between.

“Your fingers nice and wet now?” Dream questioned, lilting voice sounding slightly ragged, even to his own ears.

George nodded, a little restricted thanks to the obtusion in his mouth.

“Okay–” he sucked in a breath when he accidentally brought himself dangerously close to overstimulation. “Fuck, okay, good. Bet you think I’m gonna ask you to finger yourself now. Do you?”

A short noise of affirmation, overlapped with an underlying query.

“Not yet. I want you to close your eyes, you can take your fingers out of your mouth. Bring them to your chest. Touch yourself, pretend it’s me for a moment, my tongue.”

George’s eyes sank shut as he let out a groan, slipping his digits from his mouth and dragging them across his chest in a languid trajectory towards his nipple. A messy line of spit followed the action and broke belatedly, clinging to George’s alabaster skin.

Dream shakily took his hands away from his groin and hit _print screen_ again. A loud whine tore from George, disrupting Dream’s movements.

“It’s not enough, Dream,” George impressed, and it carried an edge of genuine distress that made Dream’s heart palpitate strenuously in his chest.

“Fuck, I know, I want to be there with you so bad, George,” Dream dropped his head back on his headrest, his eyes falling shut. Faintly, Dream could hear George’s breathing pick up, and knew that he was hanging onto every epochal word that Dream relinquished.

“Even through a fucking computer I can see that your body looks so small, and I fucking love it. I want to hold you down by your wrists, your waist, by your fucking _neck_ , George—” George keened loudly, wrists flexing shakily. “—I want to see bruises in the shape of my hands across every inch of your skin. I _need_ everyone to know you’re _mine_.”

Dream bit his tongue. The unspoken words, _you always have been, haven’t you, George?_ funnelled subduedly to the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t say them.

George gasped, the faint sound spilling into Dream’s ear like smoke.

“ _Dream_.”

At the breathless sound of his name being called, Dream lifted his head from the chair to regard George again. “Hm?”

The slick fingers of George’s left hand pulled down his chest, smearing glistening spit across his body. He looked like an absolute mess, and Dream craved it, loved that it was for _him_. He reached out to save the screenshot, and leaned back in his chair, collecting the bottle of lube in his palm in the same movement. The cap clicked open, and Dream squeezed a copious amount into his right hand, promptly resuming the fist around his cock. He sighed deeply, and pumped up and down his shaft with more care than before, conscious of his elevated sensitivity. A sharp keen pulled out of George, and Dream could just make out the pixelated action of the older man hooking his canine over his bottom lip, biting down on the plush skin.

“Please, Dream, you’ve had your fucking fun already. Let me touch myself.” George wagered, the underlying tone of which was toeing on begging not lost on Dream, despite how he was clearly trying to act callous.

The blond deliberated for a tense moment, then impulsively concluded that, by that point, he might as well turn on his camera. He dropped the lube onto his desk and reached forward with his clean hand. Deftly, he switched on the hardware and directed his cursor across his screen, allowing his camera to connect with his Discord call. His monitor flashed, and suddenly Dream’s own appearance reflected back at him in the corner of his screen. George reacted immediately, eyes widening minutely, but he tried to hide it by schooling his features. He couldn’t will away his traitorous blush however, which Dream mused had virtually grown to be a stain on his cheeks.

Dream angled his camera until he could fit both his face and lap in frame like he’d had George do, nudging his chair backwards until the image looked right on his screen.

With a deep inhale, he lazily stroked his cock, watching George’s eyes follow the movement.

“Reach down and grip the insides of your thighs, I want one more photo of you like this. So fucking attractive, George.” Dream leered, not allowing George the opportunity to get a word in edgewise.

George rolled his eyes crankily, but his face deepened a harsher red, and he complied, back arching to accommodate the languid pull of his outstretched arms. Dream stared hard at the distinguishing paleness of George’s legs, flesh turning bleach-white around the tips of his fingers. He hastily captured the picture and sunk back into his chair.

“So good,” Dream breathed, mostly to himself, wrist stuttering.

George glanced to the side, uncertainty in his body language, his hands not even twitching where they bunched the delicate skin of his inner thighs.

“May I…?” He asked quietly.

Dream leaned forward again, left arm hanging loosely off his armrest, while his right hand slipped to the base of his cock and stayed there.

“Hm? What do you need, baby?” Dream hummed, voice low and remarkably clear despite his cloudy head. Any remnants of his early-morning lilt would need to be consciously emphasised by that point.

George’s breath stuttered tantalisingly, the following exhale drawn out into a sultry groan as his head fell back against the seat, and Dream realised what he had said. _Baby_.

“Sorry– is that okay?”

For a hasty moment, Dream noticed his facade slip, and he tried to force the stammer away from his voice, “I know you don’t normally like—”

“ _Dream_ , for fuck’s sake it’s _fine_ , please get on with it, idiot. _Please_.” George groused, clearly frustrated, and Dream’s eyelids fluttered.

_George sounds damn fucking good when he begs_ , Dream thought to himself agreeably. His mind seemed long since incapable of escaping the dark shroud that George’s desperate voice was mercilessly beckoning it further into.

“Dream–” George began, again with that whiny tone.

“That’s enough,” Dream cut in, voice steely, then collected himself.

“Oh George,” he scorned, mellow and sweet, “you’ve been such a _pest_. I really don’t think you deserve it, if I’m being completely honest.”

“S-sorry–”

“I wasn’t finished.” He snapped. “ _But_ , I was going to say, it’s not like I can actually do anything to stop you. I’m halfway across the fucking planet.” Dream ground out, and paused as he briefly reminisced on that awful reality.

Dream saw George open his mouth at that, fingers repeatedly clenching in their iron grip.

“Besides,” he continued, before George could collect his thoughts, “I have trouble saying no to you.”

Something like hope flashed across George’s features, and he tilted his head in a way that made Dream ache.

“So I can…?” The brunet meekly lifted a hand from his thigh, gesturing vaguely. Heat cramped in Dream’s chest, and he stared back intently. A small smile crept across his face.

“Get your lube. Use plenty, baby. I want to hear those filthy sounds when you’re jerking yourself off.”

George nodded affirmatively, eyes cloudy as they flicked up to his camera, and he uncapped the bottle of lube, pouring some out onto his awaiting palm. Dream dragged his eyes away from George’s face—specifically the teeth the brunet had around his bottom lip—and focused his gaze on the other’s hands. 

George obeyed him easily, slick hand dragging up and down his shaft slowly to apply the aid evenly. A long, breathless sigh escaped George, his spine arcing along with the movement of his fingers, curled languidly around his cock. Dream eyed him greedily, wondering if he’d ever have enough of seeing George like this. He did his best to commit every inch of skin to memory, conscious of the fact that despite George’s enthusiastic consent, that didn’t promise any kind of regularity. It didn’t mean things would suddenly be different for them.

George moaned quietly, and Dream caught the slight tremor that ran through his wrist as it worked his cock.

“George.” Dream called softly.

George’s eyes blinked open hazily, and Dream decided that he loved that expression donned on the other. He wanted it all the time. He hummed appreciatively, gently pulling his hand up his shaft to close his loose fist over the head.

“I know you want to keep going, but you can’t cum yet.” Dream explained tonically. “Here’s the deal; you can do whatever you want to yourself, but you have to wait for me, yeah? Sound okay, George?”

George let out a soft, strangled sound that caught in his throat, but he didn't argue back. Dream saw the way he shivered faintly, though from chill or restraint, Dream couldn’t tell. He settled back in his chair again and dropped his hand down the length of his dick, easing an unhurried pace for himself, carefully avoiding areas of high sensitivity while he waited for George’s reciprocative move. The brunet inhaled deeply, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Slowly, like he was wary of disobeying the other, George settled firmly on his haunches and tipped his knees forward, accentuating the lines of his body to the camera. His left hand gingerly stroked up and down his dick with an increasing amount of confidence.

“Fuck, feels so good,” George exhaled past his teeth noisily, pushing his head further into the leather of his chair.

Dream slipped his fingers down over his balls and stared at the long column of George’s neck, aching with the persistent desire to kiss and suck at the skin. He dragged his gaze down the planes of George’s chest and sternum, tracing a thumb along the topside of his shaft, imagining he were doing it to each one of George’s ribs instead. And finally, he pressed the knuckle of his forefinger into the sensitive area under his head, eyes lustfully trailing over George’s flat stomach, the gentle slope of his sides, and the taut silhouette of his spread thighs that formed a ruddy apex at his hips, pulling Dream’s attention solely back to the explicit image of George’s slender fingers around his flushed, hard cock.

Small sounds were tumbling out of George at every other interval, and Dream hurried his pace around his dick, abandoning careful intent in favour of fast and consistent stimulation. A low groan pulled out of him unexpectedly, and George’s eyes mistily opened to follow the sound.

“Dream,” he breathed, non-dominant hand venturing down to fondle his balls.

“Oh fuck.” Dream swore, shudders running down his arms and back interrupting the integrity of his tugs. “George, fuck,”

George grunted breathily in response, slowing down briefly to readjust in his seat.

“ _Fuck_. Don’t cum yet, don’t you dare fucking cum yet,” Dream threatened, feeling the fog in his mind thicken unsolicitedly.

George whimpered and lowered his heels, feet sliding to the front of his chair listlessly until his tailbone connected with the plush seat, and his now-raised knees fell open against the armrests.

The shift had given Dream ample view of everything from the tip of George’s cock to the barest hint of his darkened hole from between his cheeks, and Dream drank it in as though he were starving. The thought of seeing George’s fingers slipping in and out of himself while the man panted and cried beautifully was almost enough to make Dream’s mind go entirely blank.

“Fuck Georgie, you’re so pretty,” Dream began, voice breaking as a subdued, but gratifying jolt tingled up his spine. “I wish I could touch you. I want to be there so bad.”

George was breathing heavily, and it took a moment or two for Dream’s words to register.

“I know,” George breathed, nearly a whisper. “M-Me too. Wish– wish you were here.”

Dream fucked into his fist faster, squeezing his eyes shut against the onslaught of pleasure.

“God– fuck, I want my fingers inside you. I w-want to make you beg and writhe on them,” he paused, inhaling shakily, feeling a telltale pool of heat in his gut. “ _Ah_ – I’d pull you apart and deny your orgasm every time, putting you right there on that edge until you– _fuck_ —” both he and George groan at the same time, George uttering breathy mutters of _yes_ and _keep going_. “—Until You can’t stand it any longer... When you’re begging and crying for me, then I’ll finally give you my cock.”

George had his back curved into an aggressive arch, his beautiful body stretched and bared for _Dream_ , and no one else _but Dream_. The hand that was playing with the spot behind his balls slipped down further, and Dream watched breathlessly as George pushed a slick finger in his hole, punctuated by a gasp, and followed closely by a second. The sight pulled a moan out of Dream unexpectedly.

“Ohh fuck, George. I’m so close,” Dream gritted against the mounting pleasure that stacked in his groin. “I’d fuck you long and hard,” he paused again to catch his breath, “fuck you so good you wouldn’t be able to fucking _sit down_ without remembering what I did to you. I’d be so good to you Georgie, that you would never want anyone else’s dick again—you’d be _mine_.”

“Yes, Dream. No one else. Just y-you, _yours_.” George whined, loud and long, fingers working himself faster. He cried out as they brushed over his prostate. “ _Please_ Dream, let me cum. _Please!_ ”

Somewhere distantly, Dream wished he could take a picture of George like this—not through discord, but with his phone. In the room with him, doing everything Dream had promised. He swiped his thumb over the head of his dick and dragged his knuckle across his glans on every upwards movement, until all of a sudden Dream had no way to stop his climax as it swept through him. It was a searing heat that engulfed him completely, for a few moments that simultaneously lasted a year. Sticky cum spilled down his fingers and smeared across the skin between his cock and his fist, and a sinful groan dragged out the remainder of his high. Panting, Dream blinked open his eyes against the comedown bleariness as quickly as possible, wanting to take in as much of George as he could. Despite having just cum, Dream knew that he would want to see George’s face when he eventually came. He let his fist go limp against his thigh, away from his spent dick.

George was still pistoning two fingers inside himself, and had sped up his ministrations around his cock. Now that Dream’s mind was starting to clear, he better noticed the volume of George’s moans, and the heavy panting that accentuated each pull on his dick. He could just make out the slick sounds of skin sliding against skin, too, and if he hadn’t just cum, it would have been a major turn-on.

George’s cries pitched, and Dream thought he saw a wet track down his cheek shimmer in the light.

“Dream, _please!_ Please let me cum!”

The brunet was clearly struggling to keep himself from accidentally climaxing, and Dream’s chest constricted with adoration. He’d toyed with George more than enough already, and yet he was still adamant on waiting for permission. _Fuck_.

“Cum, baby. You’re so perfect George. You’ve done so well for me. Cum for me,” Dream crooned, and was incredibly glad for the fact that George was too wrapped up in his pleasure to focus on Dream’s face, because he thought he was probably doing a really shit job at keeping the hearts out of his eyes.

At Dream’s praise, George instantly threw his head back against the headrest and loudly moaned as white streaks of cum splashed onto his stomach and thumb. His eyes remained loosely shut against the waves of his own orgasm, face scrunched in an expression of intense pleasure. Dream soaked it up, committed as much as he possibly could to his memory. Go fucking figure George looked stunning when he came, because of course everyone’s token pretty streamer would.

As they both came down from their highs, Dream a little further along than George, panting heavily in the quiet, Dream wondered who would be the first to speak. He knew he should say something, but he wasn’t quite ready just yet, so he busied himself with grabbing a few tissues to clean himself up.

From the corner of his eye he saw George close his legs and drop them to one side, eyes still half-lidded.

Unable to stall any longer, Dream allowed himself a few moments to take George’s endearing complacency in, before clearing his throat softly.

“You, uh,” he started, and realised he didn’t have a plan. “You feeling alright, George?” Was what he settled with, voice soothing when his physical presence otherwise couldn’t be.

George could only glance at him briefly before burying his face in his hands. Dream smiled to himself. He had mostly already been expecting George to act shy once clarity hit him. So long as he wasn’t regretting it, Dream knew how to coax the other man through his feelings. That was something he had practice in.

“Is that a yes?” He prompted again, lilt soft.

George nodded his head. Quietly, “I just can’t believe we did that.”

Dream chuckled. “Why?”

Slowly, as though tentative, George lowered his hands from his features, but kept his fingers touching along the bottom of his jaw. He still had trouble meeting the image of Dream on his monitor screen for too long. He shrugged one shoulder jerkily.

“I just… can’t believe all I had to do was mis-send a Snapchat to you of your stupid morning voice.”

A wheeze squeezed the air out of Dream, and he tried to put a cap on his laughter in order to maintain the delicate clandestinity of the intimate moment. It sort of worked, but the sound caused George to finally drag his eyes over to Dream’s image; a small, delighted smile taking up residence on the brunet’s face. Dream wasn’t complaining.

“To be fair, it wasn’t that that did it.”

“I know, it’s your stupid hardheadedness and inability to let things go.”

Another abrupt wheeze tumbled out of Dream, ending in an incredulous giggle. “You called it _hot!_ As if I was going to just let that go.”

George rolled his eyes, but it looked like he was having the same trouble Dream was with fending off his smile.

“Whatever. You’re dumb.”

“Oh yeah? And you’re cute.” Dream retaliated, which was perfectly fair play in his opinion.

“Oh my god. Stop.”

“Why not? Stop being cute and I’ll stop.” He teased, and his heart felt ten sizes bigger in his chest.

George just shook his head and pursed his lips in a vain attempt to stop openly reacting. It had little effect, and his cheeks pinked with the effort, and Dream had to stop himself from sighing contentedly.

“Whatever, Dream.”

Dream chuckled, unable to take his eyes off George’s face. He realised what he still needed to ask, and steeled himself. “Did I ever… go too far? You can tell me.” He said honestly.

George’s expression softened and he blinked sleepily. “Dream, I said I’d tell you to stop and I meant it. I never _once_ asked you to stop.”

Dream breathed in deeply and closed his eyes. He could still picture every detail of George’s sex-ridden face on the back of his eyelids. He blinked them open sluggishly.

“I just wanted to make sure. We probably didn’t do this in the best way. I could have been more open about what I was going to do, considering– we’ve never done anything like that before.” Dream admitted, red-faced, and a little guilty. In his eyes, it was somewhat true, though.

George did not appear to share this sentiment. He just shook his head earnestly.

“No, Dream, you’re–” he sighed and started again. “Dream. I don’t… trust other people easily. I don’t connect with people, the way I have with you, easily. And you know this.” He added quietly.

Dream opened his mouth to speak, but George shook his head again, cutting him off.

“No, let me finish. I trust you Dream. With everything. I can’t think of a single other person I can say that about.” He swallowed and chewed his lip nervously. “I’m trying to tell you that… that it’s okay, because… because it’s _you_. I love you.” George smiled crookedly. “And to be fair, we know one another so well by this point that we can practically read each other’s minds. I don’t doubt that if I was genuinely uncomfortable, you’d have picked up on it, idiot.”

Dream reeled. George was looking at him so fondly, so full of love, that it shocked him to his very core, and crackling warmth bled out of his heart, down his limbs and veins, to the tiny capillaries in his extremities.

“George…” he started, but he didn’t know why he said it, or what he could say next to carry on their conversation in a way that would even remotely hold a candle to George’s sincerity.

Instead, he settled on what he knew.

“I love you.”

George grinned, inching further into the safety of his hands. Softly, “I know, dumbass.”

“No, I… I _love_ you. I really love you. You’re right. There’s no one else. You’re that person for me too, George.”

It felt dangerously like a confession, but then again, so had George’s divulgence. Dream held onto George’s reaction with bated breath, but nothing happened. Realisation didn’t catch in his eyes, his jaw didn’t drop, and his features retained the same amounts of indifference that they were already expressing. Dream felt his heart sink. The small flame of confidence he had been nursing was snuffed out. He suddenly felt as though he didn’t have the courage to _make_ George understand. Dream ludicrously realised that today seemed to have had a recurring issue of the pair dropping bizarre truths, and then leaving them without any clarification—to remain ambiguous.

Dream watched the corners of the other’s eyes crinkle, and wished he could clearly see the wide smile he knew George was hiding behind his fingers. He instead settled his gaze on the brunet’s cheeks, dusted with ruddy rose.

Carefully, like he was worried of disturbing the moment, George pulled his hands away from his face.

“I wouldn’t mind if we could do it again.”

Dream’s heart felt as though it had simultaneously dropped like one’s stomach did on rollercoasters, and soared high above the clouds. He could barely bring himself to speak any louder than a hushed murmur, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” George’s answer was more definite.

Dream knew it was a bad idea to indulge in such a game that would demand high output with little emotional reward, but he was only a man, and he really, _really_ wanted this other man. _So_ , he concluded, _surely that counts for something?_

“I’d… like that, too.” Dream imparted, then it was his turn to drag a hand down his face, covering his pink cheeks. “It was really fucking great, I’m not gonna lie. George, I know I’m kinda biased ‘cause you’re my best friend, but damn, you’re fucking hot when you’re jacking off, did you know that?” 

Dream stared shamelessly, forcibly willing his confidence to have a comeback. It seemed to tip the scales that the basis of their entire back-and-forth relationship existed on, and George stumbled a bit, face turning bright red.

“Oh my god, you have no tact. None.” He stuttered slightly, eyes darting away subserviently.

“You love it when I praise you, Georgie, don’t think I don’t know that,” Dream grinned. “I’m telling you,” he continued, “you looked hot as fuck. I wasn’t kidding when I said I want to get my hands all over you. I wish I could be there.” He somehow impressively smothered the wistful sigh that threatened to escape.

“My god,” George repeated, clearly flustered. “You weren’t so bad yourself– oh fuck, I didn’t even get to _see_ you when you came, I was too busy being– that’s not _fair_.”

Dream interrupted him with a loud bout of laughter, knocking a fist on his desk. “George! How can you say that _I_ have no tact?” His words were half heartedly followed up with _you’re such an idiot_ , but it was predominantly drowned in between Dream’s uncontrollable laughing.

“You saw _me!_ That is not fair.”

“G— _hh_ —eorge! It doesn’t _matter!_ ” He wheezed raucously. Of course George would try and turn sex into a competitive event.

_Such a dumbass_ , Dream thought affectionately.

“Whatever.” George replied flippantly, somehow thinking he could sell the ‘aloof’ act while completely naked and covered in sweat and lube. Dream thought he just looked ridiculous, and absolutely not endearing at all.

“You know what I think you should do?” George asked, absentmindedly drumming his fingers on his desk.

“What’s that?”

He paused, pretending to be pensive. “You should buy a plane ticket right now and come see me.”

Dream huffed a surprised laugh, smiling widely at the obvious response.

“No, you come here.”

A strangled noise tore from the brunet.

“What, why? You come _here_.” He sounded like a petulant toddler that wasn’t used to being told no, but Dream decided not to point it out.

“I have a house.”

“What?” George squawked. “How loud do you think we’re going to be?”

“Well… I know how loud I’d like to _make_ you be.”

George immediately recoiled from embarrassment, shoving his face stubbornly into his hands again. Christ, that was beginning to do irreversible damage to Dream’s heart. He heard a muffled _oh my god_ , then reached forward over his desk to navigate to a new window on Chrome, chuckling blithely.

“I’m buying you a plane ticket.” He stated, already pulling up and sorting through available flights.

Silence.

“You’re not.” Dream saw George shift in his seat from the corner of his eye.

“I am,” he confirmed. “What’s the wait time like for B-2 interviews? Is a month enough? Surely a month is enough.”

“Oh my god, Dream. Calm down.”

Dream barrelled on, oblivious. “I think that’s enough.”

“Dream. You are not buying me a plane ticket.” George said, looking stern.

“No. I _bought_ you a plane ticket.”

Dream heard a thud come from the other man’s microphone and glanced over to see George wearing an expression of disbelief, elbows resting on the desk where they propped up his head.

“Dream,” he started, but he was smiling impossibly wide despite his clear efforts not to. “Stop spending money on me. Let me pay for it.”

Dream made an affronted noise. “Don’t you dare. You can pay me back by getting a visa. I booked your flight for a month from now, on the 27th. You better be there.”

George sighed, exasperated. He clearly understood that he wouldn’t win this battle. “Fine. Text me the details. You’re such– you’re an idiot.” He mumbled, lips pursed in that funny way he did when he didn’t want to smile.

“Doesn’t matter, you already said you love me.” Dream crooned, preening.

They half-bickered, half-talked back and forth for almost two hours, until they both ended up switching to their phones so that they could get up and quickly take their respective showers, that had been getting a little overdue since the half-hour mark. Dream convinced George to leave his phone on the basin while they washed off, which ensued a lot of laughing and unintelligible shouting over the sound of running water from both parties.

Then, because they could, and because neither had really wanted to be away from the other just yet, they remained on call for another five hours, George vocally helping Dream to make toasted egg sandwiches for lunch.

When Dream finally retreated to his bedroom that night, his and George’s call remained on his mind as he tried to fall asleep—specifically, the flight set to arrive in Orlando at 7:50 AM, on Tuesday the 28th of next month.

**Author's Note:**

> Ah yes, the “lucky theres lube right here in this drawer so I don’t have to get up!” trope, my fucking favourite.
> 
> God I get like this post-writing clarity, when I finally take a step back from what I’ve written and think: “god, what the fuck was that??”
> 
> I hate that I take writing these people so seriously lmao. Once again, this comes down if their stance on explicit ff changes.
> 
> ( Oh and also!! Not super important but I’m moving out in a couple weeks and I’m really excited! In theory I will have more time to write and I’m hhhh really looking forward to it <3 )
> 
> Friendly reminder that dnf prompts and requests are always welcome, too, just not guaranteed. :)


End file.
